Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. She would never, never go back. I can’t. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. You are always doing something for nothing, and that is why I love you.
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